Healing
by Dragonfly-Moonlight
Summary: Fayt has left his lover for good. He thinks he's found a place where no one can find. He was wrong.
1. Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean. I make no money from the writing of this piece.

* * * *

Fayt had never been in a hot spring before. He had taken long hot baths in the past, but the temperature of those baths paled in comparison to the steamy water in front of him. Carefully, he stepped into the boiling reservoir and lowered himself into a sitting position, hissing until his body temperature adjusted to the shimmering liquid surrounding him. He did not stop until the clear depths covered his shoulders, tension slowly oozing out of him. Then he let out a weary sigh and turned his gaze upwards.

He had heard the hot springs of the particular planet he was on were great for soothing the of aches and pains. The waters themselves were rumoured to possess some healing qualities no one had yet been able to identify. Many people from across the universe traveled to this location just to take a dip in the healing hot springs and be cured for whatever ailed them. The facility's staff, to accommodate such people, often placed aromatherapy candles around the hot springs. As the waters and the soothing scent of lavender washed over him, Fayt knew the rumours to be true, and he understood why so many sought the location out. Everything but his broken heart felt better just by being in the hot spring.

His broken heart . . . nothing would ever be able to heal that, in Fayt's mind. He had been deceived, betrayed by two people he had trusted the most in his world, and he did not know how to handle the overflow of emotions assaulting his heart. Fayt wanted the pain to end someway, somehow, but he could not think of any good alternatives. Alcohol did not agree with him, he hated the numbing sensations of painkillers, and the game simulators had long since lost their appeal.

'Guess it doesn't really matter, anymore,' he thought, bringing a hand to his eyes. 'All I can do is move forward . . . somehow.'

Fayt let out another weary sigh and allowed his eyes to drift close for a few moments. The scent of the waters and of the lavender lulled his senses, and he slid a little further into the blue crystal depths. For some reason, he half-imagined the scent of roses filling the air . . .

* * *

Luther smirked as he washed the rose oil from his fingertips. A small portion of the substance had spilled onto his hands when he had entered then set up Fayt's hotel room, but it was a mere small price to pay. His plans were in action now, and that was all Luther cared. In the end, Fayt would be his.


	2. Part 2

Luther had to admit, if only to himself, Fayt possessed a certain kind of . . . something. Whatever the quality happened to be, Luther could not say, but he knew one thing for certain. Despite everything the young man had endured, Fayt had somehow managed to retain a naiveté that no one else ever had. Those who went on quests like Fayt had and had lost what Fayt had lost were changed forever, their innocence gone. Yet, the green-eyed man had managed. Such a feat baffled Luther, and he wanted to get his hands on Fayt to find out more. It was a strange mixture of beauty and sadness Fayt possessed, and Luther wanted to taste it for himself.

The blond also knew he had to be careful when it came to approaching Fayt Leingod. His counterpart probably believed him to be dead and would possibly attack him on sight. Luther did not want that. He wanted submission from Fayt, complete and absolute. He wanted to hear the younger man cry out Luther's name as he explored and delved into every part of Fayt's body. Such ideas were not farfetched but were unobtainable at the moment. In Luther's estimation, Fayt probably did not want much contact with anyone, not after finding Sophia Esteed in bed with Cliff Fittir. To get what he wanted, he would have to remain hidden from Fayt for a while, or at least find a way to disguise himself.

'I can warm him up to the idea of me being in his life permanently, though,' Luther thought as he watched Fayt walk back to his hotel room. 'All I need is time and _that_ is something I have plenty of.'

A smirk touched his features as the door to Fayt's room slid open . . .

* * *

Fayt felt exhausted, just bone-weary and limp-muscle exhausted. It was a good thing, really. The waters of the hot springs had done wonders for his body. In spite of the exhaustion, he felt rejuvenated, like he could take on anything that came his way.

'A good sign,' he mused. 'It means I'm more like myself again.'

He smiled to himself as he walked back to his room. A few more days of the hot springs and he would be able to leave. Where he would go, he did not have an idea, but he had gotten used to traveling. Anywhere would be just fine.

As he drew closer to his room, the scent of roses grew stronger, and Fayt's smile dissipated some. He had been smelling the flowers for a better part of the day, and it baffled him as to why. Had someone dumped an entire bucket of rose oil onto herself in front of his room? If so, it had been a ridiculous idea. No one needed to smell the roses that badly.

With a shake of his head, Fayt keyed in the room code, and the door slid open. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened at the sight before him.

Someone had decorated his room. Vases of red roses were on the desk and bureaus, and candles had been lit. Between the vases and candles were several white boxes. The bed had been remade with blue silk sheets and a soft-looking comforter. An envelope rested in the center.

For a moment, Fayt thought Cliff might have found him. The Klausian had an uncanny knack for seeking him out to apologize whenever things between them had gotten bad and Fayt needed time to think things over. It scared him because he knew things between he and Cliff would never be the same ever again.

Then the irrational fear left him and Fayt took a deep breath to calm himself. While Cliff had always sought him out, the Klausian had never done any sort of grand, romantic gesture towards him. Theirs had been an instant relationship, one where the courtship period had lasted a day before they ended up in bed together. Someone else had found him.

'Or maybe someone got the wrong room by mistake,' he thought, taking slow steps towards the bed. 'No one even knows I've left yet.'

Confident that had to be the case, Fayt picked up the envelope to find out whom everything was for. Once he had that information, he could take the gifts to the front desk and inform them of the error. He read the name printed on the paper then almost dropped it. In bold, black ink, it read:

**Fayt Leingod**

Someone had found him.


	3. Part 3

"_I want to feel you, to taste you . . ."_

Fayt's hands trembled as he read the note left for him on his bed. He still could not get over the fact someone had found him so quickly after he had left Cliff and Sophia behind on _The Diplo_. It frightened him to think of the lengths this mysterious person had gone to just to deliver the gifts left in his room.

"_These flowers, these roses, they are a symbol . . . I shall leave it up to you as to what they mean."_

The red roses still remained in the vases, sitting on the desk and counter tops of the room. A few pink roses were nestled in as well, and petals of white roses with violet or blue trim lay on the bed. From what Fayt had learned from his mother, a red rose was a sign of true love. Pink was a sign of passion and white signified peace. He could not remember what the violet and blue colours were supposed to mean, but he understood one thing. Whoever had sent him the roses had been an enemy at one point.

"_I am sure your lips feel as silky as their petals. I would love to find out for myself."_

His breath came in short spurts, his heart hammered away, and Fayt realised he was hyperventilating. He wanted to escape, to leave the room, the planet, and never look back. Who could have found him and why was this person so interested in him? He was a nobody, not even worth Cliff's love and loyalty, and Cliff had been Fayt's everything.

"No," he whispered. "No . . ."

'No what?'_  
_

Fayt closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He held his breath for ten seconds then let it out, repeating the action until he felt his nerves were no longer jumping all over the place. His breathing evened out, and he felt more capable of continuing on with his plans. He would remain on the planet until it was time for him to leave, and something in his gut told him he needed to stay for a short while longer. The letter remained clutched in his hand.

"Why?" he asked it. "Why me?"

The piece of paper held no answers. Only a promise had been written.

"_When you feel like yourself again, I shall come for you. I understand you need some time to think and organize your thoughts. I wish you luck in your task. I know you will come around. In the meantime, enjoy the gifts."_

"Enjoy the gifts . . ."

With unsteady feet, Fayt pushed himself into a standing position, never letting go of the letter. He walked over to the desk. A particularly large box lay nestled between a vase filled with three roses and four red candles. The scent of the candles, from what he had discovered, was no different than the roses. Someone thought a lot of him to send him such expensive blooms.

"So what do you have for me?" he inquired. Fayt picked up the box. His hands still trembled but they were not shaking as bad as they had before.

As he slid the top part of the package off, a part of Fayt told him he really should find a way to return the gifts sent to him. He was not ready for a relationship, not so soon after discovering Cliff and Sophia's betrayal, and it was obvious the sender wanted more from him than what Fayt felt he was capable of giving. However, another part of him did not want to relinquish the gifts. They told him someone desired him, even though he felt undesired.

'I'll see what's inside first,' Fayt told himself. 'Then I'll make my decision.'

White tissue paper lay folded over a bulky and apparent piece of clothing. A note card rested on top of the tissue paper, and his breath hitched once more. How many notes would he have to read before the day was over? With a trembling hand, Fayt lifted the card up to read it.

"Just a little something to bring you comfort and warmth when the nights become colder. I hope its colour reminds you of when you first looked into my eyes. I know I shall never forget."

'The colour of eyes?' Fayt tilted his head. He pulled away the tissue paper. 'Is that a hint of some kind?'

Underneath the paper laid a plush-style, royal blue sweater. The material felt like it melted under his fingertips, and Fayt inhaled with a sharp pang of sadness.

Cliff had blue eyes. They had sparkled with life and shone with intelligence, and the colour of the sweater reminded Fayt of such facts.

'But his eyes aren't this dark,' his subconscious whispered. 'You know that. Besides, as far as you know, Cliff doesn't even know you're gone.'

"No," Fayt murmured, his hands still on the sweater. "He probably doesn't. Someone else sent this."

He gazed at the garment for a while longer, marveling at the texture and the thoughtfulness behind the gift. Whoever his admirer was, the person knew he was considering heading to a place were the winters were harsh. Hell, he was thinking of returning to Elicoor II, to Albel. A soft smile touched Fayt's features as he refolded the tissue paper and placed the box cover on top. The note card remained in his hand, and he started to analyze what it had said.

"A sweater for the cold nights," he murmured. "Eyes the colour of blue. I know it isn't Cliff. He isn't a Casanova. At least, not towards me. And I know of only one other person with blue eyes. He's the only one who could have found me as quickly as he did." He set the note card down. "I guess the question is why now. Wouldn't you agree, Luther?"

* * *

Luther raised an eyebrow the moment Fayt said his name, and a tiny smirk graced his features. He should have known it would not take the younger man long to figure out who had entered his room and sent the gifts. It should not have been too great of a surprise and yet it was.

'Ah well,' Luther thought with a shrug. He "stepped" into the room, his smirk fading away. Fayt did not need to see it. 'It'll just make things more interesting.'

Fayt kept his back towards him. One of the youth's hands reached up to touch the roses Luther had given him. Calmly, confidently, and respectfully, Luther approached him, stopping a few inches shy of his former nemesis.

"How long have you been watching?" Fayt inquired, his tone quiet.

"Long enough," Luther replied. He gently grasped Fayt's shoulders.

"Was that your plan then? Try to seduce me while I'm down?"

"Is that what the note said?"

"No . . ."

"Then no. That was not my plan."

Fayt turned around to face him, his green eyes shimmering with hurt. Luther kept his hands on his shoulders, though he felt his heart aching at such a sight. It was an alien sensation, and it scared him. Luther was not, though, someone to flee when something frightened him. He knew what he wanted, and he would fight to obtain that which he desired. That which he desired just happened to be Fayt Leingod.

"Then why? Why send me all of this now? Why didn't you wait?"

"Are you saying it is not what you needed? Especially now?"

"No! I mean . . ." Fayt trailed off, uncertainty reflecting in his eyes and his voice. "I don't know."

Luther cupped Fayt's chin with his hands. A gentle smile, a rare thing, touched his lips.

"You are uncertain, Fayt Leingod. Your uncertainty feeds into your fear yet you want someone to care for you."

"Is that why then?"

"Perhaps," Luther replied.

"And you're saying it's not because I'm vulnerable?" Fayt inquired. "Because it would be just like you to take advantage of the situation."

"So you've learned how to read me. I must admit I am impressed, Fayt Leingod. And I will be honest with you. The thought did cross my mind as I have desired you since our first encounter." Luther paused then leaned forward, kissing the blue-haired man lightly on the nose- "However, I am not totally heartless. I never have been. I do understand that you need some time to recover, and I am willing to give you what you need."

For a moment or so, Fayt did not speak. Rather, his eyes continued to gaze into Luther's, and he searched for something only he could find. Then in a voice Luther could not believed belonged to Fayt, the younger man spoke. It enchanted, it enticed, and Luther found himself starting to fall in a metaphoric sense. Fayt had discovered what he had been seeking, and Luther knew from the clarity in the younger man's voice and his words.

"Then stay and never leave."

It was all Luther needed.


End file.
